


Do you really need it?

by credlycrab_odddinosaur_insaneferret



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: (kind of), Burning, Cutting, Graphic Description, I love Haechan as high as his vocals, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Please Don't Hate Me, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, he is fine tho, make this a tag, please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:48:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19180213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/credlycrab_odddinosaur_insaneferret/pseuds/credlycrab_odddinosaur_insaneferret
Summary: Haechan is, if you didn't already know, the moodmaker of NCT. He's a little happy virus and is literally the reincarantion of the sun.So if I told you that he's always fighting the urge to harm himself, how would you react?





	Do you really need it?

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo. I know I have already like a thousand of other fics to continue but I started this a while ago and I decided to finish it so, here I am, hoping it's going to be fine because I litterally look like a dead fish. I caught a bad flu and I'm trying not to make my nose bleed by how much I'm blowing my nose... And I can feel my brain floating in my skull, detaching itself from my thoughts....  
> So. yeah. Please don't hate me for this; I actually have no idea why I decided to write that but it is based over a true story!...except well, you know I'm not Haechan and I don'T live with NCT and stuff...
> 
> Anyway, feel free to yell at me in the comments or everywhere you want but I won't be able to hear it...so I would need you to write it pleaaasssee (If you want to write something)

Haechan is, if you didn't already know, the moodmaker of NCT. He's a little happy virus and is literally the reincarantion of the sun.  
So if I told you that he's always fighting the urge to harm himself, how would you react?  
-X-  
It all started when he was casually scrolling down on his phone, when he saw pictures of cutting scars on someone's wrist; he found himself intrigued over it. He decided to look it up and found out that there were many forms and of self-harm and causes. He also read about some stories about personnal experiences on various websites. Many describe the feeling of it as liberator and comforting.  
-X-  
He always found it sad when he saw such scars, but now he found himself truly attracted to this whole thing...  
-X-  
He always had liked playing with scissors, he felt like a cool kid, making them turn between his fingers, handling them like a pro. Often, he would simply grab a pair and start playing with it in his room. He wasn't a freak, he just liked the feeling it procured him.

So here he was, in his room, wondering if it would actually hurt if he tried to cut himself with the blade. After thinking about it for a while he shrugged and thought "why not try it out?". So he parted the two blades apart, pressing his index finger against the flat side of one of them.   
He bit his lips as he brought the scissors closer to his left wrist.  
He took a deep breath before closing his eyes and pressing on his skin with the sharp blade, quickly sliding it off his skin.   
He opened his eyes, looking at his forearm.   
There was only a little scratch.   
He frowned, had he not press hard enough?  
He decided to try again, this time a little lower on his arm.   
It gave the same result.

 

He frowned and his stomach lurched in a sad feeling. In all honesty, he was disappointed. He had wanted to feel himself wincing in pain and gasping for breath. He had wanted to see blood trickling on his bedsheets, black spots blurring out his vision of the world. He had wanted to feel pain and shame wash over him. He wanted to need to hide the fact that he even thought about cutting himself. He wanted to have to regret what he just did because now, he found himself wanting to try it again some other time, attracted and intrigued even more to this whole self-harming thing.  
-x-  
In NCT-127's dorm, only Mark and Haechan were left, having already finished their schedule with Dream (I know Mark is no longer in Dream but don't make me sad 3; ).  
They just came back and Mark headed to his room to work on lyrics, so Haechan decided to go shower.  
He brought his clothes for after his shower in the bathroom and closed the door. He looked at himself in the mirror and bit down on his lower lip. He jumped in place, groaning, before silently opening the door to peek a little outside.

The way was clear.

He happily ran to the kitchen and opened a drawer, cringing when it creaked. He looked around to see if Minhyung had heard, saw no one and took two knifes, a vegetable knife and an unniversal knife, which is a little sharper.  
He ran back inside the bathroom and closed the door, sliding against it after having locked it.   
He couldn't help but to smile. Haechan didn't know why but he felt a kind of excitment in his stomach that he had never felt before and he was really enjoying it .  
He put the two knifes on the side of the sink.  
He undressed himself and entered the shower, turning the left faucet , his body craving hot water.

 

When all the mirrors in the room were fogged and he had cleaned himself, he took the two knifes from the sink and slid against the wall until he was sitting on the shower's floor. He kept one of them in his right hand and left the second one on the wet soapy floor of the shower. He felt his breath cut but not in a bad, painful way. He actually felt glee; his breath got stuck in his throat like when he had found out he was going to be debuting. He grinned to himself and brought the first knife to his right forearm, pressing the blade against his smooth honey skin. Quickly sliding it in a straight line, around the middle of his forearm.

Only a red scratch was left.

He frowned and took the second knife, the one with pointy, sharper teeth, proceeding the same way as he did with the first one, only a little closer to his elbow.

A scratch again.

He sighed in frustration and slid the blade multiple time against the last scratch he had made.  
The cut became a little deeper, but still way far from the satisfacting leaking blood he had expected.

He groaned and slammed the knife against the floor, banging the back of his head lightly against the ceramic wall, choking a sob.  
When Haechan noticed a small sob had escaped his lips, he straightened, was he really going to cry over the fact that he couldn't cut himself? He didn't even have a legit reason for wanting this. What was wrong with him?  
He rubbed his red eyes and breathed deeply, he should probably get out of the shower anyway, the other members would probably be there soon.  
He took a towel and quickly dried himself, getting into his clothes and putting the knifes between his pants' waistband and his lower abdomen.  
With that, he opened the door and walked out of the bathroom.

 

He made his way to the kitchen to put back the knifes, as he saw no one currently in the room. After checking to see if anyone was around, he grabbed the two knifes from behind his elastic waistband to drop the in the kitchen sink with the other dirty dishes.

It was a well executed plan, a perfect crime...apart from the lack of victim...  
Don't get him wrong, Donghyuck didn't want to kill himself, he just wanted to physically feel some pain.

 

As he was dropping the two cutting tools, Mark entered the kitchen, slowly going over to the fridge to get a snack.  
-What 'you doin' there Hyuck?  
Donghyuck jumped, not knowing for how long Mark had been standing there.  
\- Y-you know, I just got out of the shower so..., he managed to stutter, hoping his uneasiness wasn't showing.  
\- M'kay, if you say so, answered Mark, raising one eyebrow.  
Haechan gave him no time to continue the conversationn any longer, heading straight to his room to flop down on his bed.  
He took his computer from under his bed and opened the notebook. He stared at the blank page and the flickering little line indicating how he had written nothing yet.   
His hyungs once said that when they wrote lyrics, it helped them to clear their minds. Maybe he could try, he had always wanted to start writing anyways...  
-x-

 

I'm not scared of dying,  
I'm scared of aging,  
Frightened to feel myself getting weaker  
And weaker, eaten by worries,   
Diseases and hopes

 

Every single day of my life

 

I don't want to grow accustomed  
To pain and lies of a better tomorrow

 

I don't want to end my life,  
I'm just not necessarily excited to live  
I just feel like death isn't as bad as they say

 

-x-  
His eyes got tired of the artificial light that his computer was procuring him, closing his computer and getting under his covers to try and sleep.  
-x-  
So the scissors AND the knifes didn't work...  
-X-  
He had a super stressful week and finally had a free day, so he decided to just relax in his room, while some others went out or were in the living room watching movies. 

He laid on his bed, facing the ceiling of the room.   
What could he do?

He decided to read a book because, when was the last time that he actually took time to read an actual book?  
But before, he decided to light up a scented candle, taking out matches from his cupboard.  
He took one matchstick from the little box and light it up against its side, bringing the flame against the striker and watching the flame consume the sulfuric head. He digged(dug?) the wax next to the sliver of the candle, sharing its flame with the little wisp.   
He quickly shook the wooden stick, killing the growing fire on the little stick.

He stared at the flame for some time, keeping the now extinguished match on his hands.

 

He quickly rolled up his shorts as high as he could and ripped another of the matches form its box and lit it up against its side.  
After a second of reflexion, he brought the flame closer to his leg, feeling the stinging warmth biting his skin. He hesitated an other second before quellin the flame into his upper thight, taking in a sharp breath as he watched the fire disappear behind his flesh. The warm and comforting smell of the flame's smoke transformed into the overpowering and rancid scent of his burning flesh and hair.   
He wrinkled his nose as the acrid odor got to him, feeling the sudden change of atmosphere in the air.  
It was reeking. It was by far, the worst scent he had ever smelled. It wasn't nauseaus, it was staying with you, engulfing you in its pungent emanations and grabbing you from the inside, scratching your throat to get out, harrowing you from the very bottom of your being.

 

This was what he had been searching for; the smell of regret, shame and pain.

 

Next time, he would have to open the window...

 

After having let this intense feeling sink in his mind, he took a look at the burn. It was small; about one centimeter in length and half a centimeter in width. The wound was more profound than long and it looked moist, like he had just rinsed it, which he thought would be a good thing to do...  
He was about to open the door when he thought that the smell would follow him outside...The others probably never felt such a strong scent but he didn't want to take any risks, sitting back on his bed and taking his phone from his nigth table. He put both his earbuds in his ears and laid down on his back, feeling relaxed.  
-x-  
He ended up falling asleep, forgetting to blow the candle out.  
-X-  
He was alone at the dorm and he didn't know what to do so he decided to start a movie, sitting on the couch with some snacks and a blanket.  
He was around halfway into the movie when he noticed a loose thread at the corner of his blanket. He tried to take it out with his hands but it didn't work. He frowned and got up, not even caring about pausing the movie.

He went to his room and came back with some scissors in his hands. He sat back on the couch and cut the little string and put it aside.   
-x-  
It was when his phone buzzed that he snapped out of a kind of trance he didn't even realise he was in, finding the top of his hand pierced by the end of the scissors blade. He had mindlessly dug into his skin as he was paying attention to what was in front of him.  
He looked at the wound; it was deeper than any he had ever done with scissors(and knifes). You could see blood, but it was not spilling everywhere, just a spike away from gushing out the iron-tasting liquid on his lap.  
He looked at his phone and saw that his members were going to come earlier than when they were supposed to, two streets away from their dorm.  
He cursed mentally, hurrying to wash his wound and the blades of the scissors, before putting them away.  
He sat on the couch again, taking his sleeves down over his hands, as if nothing had happened.  
-x-  
The door opened and Haechan was greeted by the other members.  
\- Why are you home this early, he asked, pausing his movie, sad that he lost his alone time.  
\- Can we talk?, asked Taeyong in answer to Donghyuck.  
Haechan frowned, shifting in his seat.  
\- U-uh yeah, he answered scooting to the side to leave more room for the others to sit, before shifting nervously in his seat.  
\- Umm...listen Donghyuck, Taeyong started, using his leader voice. We were waiting a little to see if you would come to us but...you didn't. So. Here we are, asking you to talk to us.  
Haechan frowned.  
\- I-...uh...what?  
\- We found the matchbox in your room Hyuck, continued Doyoung.  
\- It's for the candles in my room, he answered, frowning to fake his confusion.  
\- Yeah right, and you think you are a candle?, exclaimed Jaehyun, visibly irritated. Haechan could tell it was from worry but it was still making him feel bad, as he swallowed his saliva with difficulty. His mouth felt dry all of the sudden, tongue like sand paper and the inside of his cheeks feeling like dust.  
\- When you fell asleep yesterday, your shorts went up a little, explained Johnny, seeing Haechan's faking as true ignorance.  
Donghyuck looked down, hating to be the center of attention for this.  
\- We want you to stop honey, we are here for you, softly said Doyoung, putting a hand on Donghyuck's leg.  
\- Why did you even start, asked Taeyong, voice uncertain over if it was a good question to ask in such situation.  
\- I don't know. But I only did it three times I swear, he exclaimed, trying to reassure his worried hyungs.  
He saw their expression darken, facial expressions making them look mad...but sad, yet apologetic. He couldn't quite place his finger on the exact feeling they were feeling, but it was far from happiness.  
Seeing that the older ones were not continuing to talk, he continued, trying to ease their mind a little about it.  
\- And I didn't do it in like..., he thought for a moment, looking at the ceiling, two months. Maybe one?, he continued, not knowing when he actually stopped but sure about the fact that he hadn't burned himself in over a month.

\- Okay sweetie, if you say so, we trust you, Taeyong smiled a little through his tears, taking both of Haechan's hands in his.  
Haechan felt his own eyes watering, ready to spill saline water down his cheeks.  
Taeyong hugged him and the other members joined in too, crushing Haechan with affection and maybe, just maybe, he found himself smilling a little.  
His hyungs smiled at him before letting him finish his movie, going to prepare dinner in the kitchen.

Haechan felt bad about making his hyungs worry this much about this whole thing but he was truly alright. He didn't have any problem. Or did he?   
He bit down on his lower lip. He had not promised not to start again...


End file.
